Tumgik
#like what even prompted that?
thebibliosphere · 8 months
Text
Apropos of nothing and certainly not the hilarious ask I just got but I find it so funny when the worst insult someone can come up with is "all your faves looks like dusty old men" like yes, and?
Have you considered I'm a dusty, dusty old crone, and I'm just thirsting in my own lane?
5K notes · View notes
butchfalin · 5 months
Text
the funniest meltdown ive ever had was in college when i got so overstimulated that i could Not speak, including over text. one of my friends was trying to talk me through it but i was solely using emojis because they were easier than trying to come up with words so he started using primarily emojis as well just to make things feel balanced. this was not the Most effective strategy... until. he tried to ask me "you okay?" but the way he chose to do that was by sending "👉🏼👌🏼❓" and i was so shocked by suddenly being asked if i was dtf that i was like WHAT???? WHAT DID YOU JUST SAY TO ME?????????? and thus was verbal again
#yeehaw#1k#5k#10k#posts that got cursed. blasted. im making these tag updates after... 19 hours?#also i have been told it should say speech loss bc nonverbal specifically refers to the permanent state. did not know that!#unfortunately i fear it is so far past containment that even if i edited it now it would do very little. but noted for future reference#edit 2: nvm enough ppl have come to rb it from me directly that i changed the wording a bit. hopefully this makes sense#also. in case anyone is curious. though i doubt anyone who is commenting these things will check the original tags#1) my friend did not do this on purpose in any way. it was not intended to distract me or to hit on me. im a lesbian hes a gay man. cmon now#he felt very bad about it afterwards. i thought it was hilarious but it was very embarrassed and apologetic#2) “why didn't he use 🫵🏼?” didn't exist yet. “why didn't he use 🆗?” dunno! we'd been using a lot of hand emojis. 👌🏼 is an ok sign#like it makes sense. it was just a silly mixup. also No i did not invent 👉🏼👌🏼 as a gesture meaning sex. do you live under a rock#3) nonspeaking episodes are a recurring thing in my life and have been since i was born. this is not a quirky one-time thing#it is a pervasive issue that is very frustrating to both myself and the people i am trying to communicate with. in which trying to speak is#extremely distressing and causes very genuine anguish. this post is not me making light of it it's just a funny thing that happened once#it's no different than if i post about a funny thing that happened in conjunction w a physical disability. it's just me talking abt my life#i don't mind character tags tho. those can be entertaining. i don't know what any of you are talking about#Except the ppl who have said this is pego/ryu or wang/xian. those people i understand and respect#if you use it as a writing prompt that's fine but send it to me. i want to see it#aaaand i think that's it. everyday im tempted to turn off rbs on it. it hasn't even been a week
144K notes · View notes
ikiprian · 2 months
Text
Mr. Fenton is a competent teacher. Almost too competent.
If Mr. Daniel Fenton had any more than a BS (with a minor in education), Tim would’ve flagged his profile as a potential Rogue. That’s the way of most charismatic academics, at least in Gotham. (Got a PhD? Instant watchlist.) Instead, he’s Gotham Academy’s newest celebrity, as a young, passionate, out-of-towner substitute while the chemistry teacher’s on maternity leave.
Tim gets the hype. Fenton seems to genuinely love teaching, and is invested in the welfare of the student body. He hands out bananas during exam week, hosts a “study habits seminar” each month to coach effective learning strategies, and the third time Tim falls asleep in his class, he even pulls Tim aside to ask if he’s doing okay. With all the late work he accepts and the protein bars he sneaks Tim, he’s every teen vigilante’s dream teacher. He could’ve been Tim’s favorite.
In fact, Mr. Fenton was Tim’s favorite. Up until Tim walks into Mr. Fenton’s chemistry classroom for a forgotten textbook, an hour after the final bell.
On the board where tallied scores for today’s review game had been kept, “THE CHEMISTRY BEHIND DR. CRANE’S FEAR GAS: ANXIOGENICS, NERI’S, & YOU,” is now scrawled. A detailed diagram of the human endocrine system projects in front of a small crowd of adoring and attentive students.
Fenton is wrist-deep in the skull cavity of an anatomical model. A short tug, and out pops the brain.
It’s plastic. It’s fake.
Tim identifies the nearest emergency exit.
Fenton turns to the door, and in the dark classroom with the projector illuminating half his face, his eyes almost seem to flash red. “What’s up, Tim?” he asks. His friendly grin is too big for his face. “I didn’t know you wanted to join the Just Science League!”
[OR: Danny’s a science teacher at Tim’s school. Gotham’s a pretty wild place, even for someone who grew up a superhero in a ghost-infested town, so he takes it upon himself to start a club teaching kids how to manage themselves in the event of a crisis. These Gothamites are pretty hardy, but a little extra training never hurt anybody! And he suspects one of his students might be a teen vigilante, like he’d been, back in the day. As a senior super, it's Danny’s duty look out for him! Surely, this is the subtlest and most appropriate way to give the kid pointers.]
[Tim immediately assumes supervillain.]
6K notes · View notes
aeide-thea · 1 year
Text
on principle opposed to describing art i dislike as 'masturbatory' because even though it's an alluringly contemptuous word to sneer it's impossible to reconcile with my pro-masturbation stance
30K notes · View notes
nerdpoe · 7 months
Text
There's a level of Hell that Constantine loves and hates in equal measure.
The Level of Lust and Debauchery.
He loves it for what it is, but he also really, really hates it. The beings in it are unhinged at best, completely insane at worst. Stronger than Demons, but weaker than Gods-it's always more stressful than fun dealing with them.
So needing to summon the King of that level is...well. John can already feel the exhaustion.
But instead of exhaustion, he feel rage. Disgust.
The King that shimmers into existence is a fucking child.
And John honestly loses some time after that.
He comes back from ranting with the tiny King forcefully yanking him to a stop.
"Wait, you thought the Infinite Realms were what?"
Turns out, that wasn't the Level of Lust and Debauchery at all. Turns out, the Infinite Realms has a Red Light District.
Turns out, that is a very, very small part of the Infinite Realms, and this tiny child King had no idea it was there, and now he has to explain what a Red Light District is to an increasingly mortified Royal Teenager.
All around, it's not a fun time for anyone present.
3K notes · View notes
puppetmaster13u · 2 months
Text
Prompt 122
“Have you met Seal Hood?” 
Dick paused almost mid-jump, having apparently turned to the wrong channel but also changed to the perfect one too. At least, perfect in the fact that he had just overheard an interesting thing from Jason, apparently forgetting that his comm was in fact on still. 
Damian must have answered, because Jason snorted a laugh. “You can try getting him to leave, he’s taken over my bathtub and keeps eating all my food.” 
Hold up, was- Dick had thought Jason was talking about a plush or something, but was he talking about a literal living animal seal??
“I’ll have you know I’m not going to make a poor little baby seal leave, and I’m not putting him in a zoo, brat.” 
Oh Gotham, it was a real living animal seal. Dick about faced, rushing towards Jason’s safehouse. How did he get a seal? Why was it in his bathtub?? Why hadn’t he called the proper people for this sort of thing?! He had to get to the safehouse now to see this shit.
Tumblr media
Baby Seal Danny <3
2K notes · View notes
Text
DP x DC Prompt: The Watchlist
Batman has a watchlist. A list that contains every individual who could become a rouge and a contingency plan for if they did.  
And while they, his children, often make fun of his paranoia and him for having it, they totally understand why he did. They lived in Gotham, for Christ's sake. Where everyone’s just a pin drop away from being the city’s next big villain, forcing the bats to scratch their heads while playing cat and mouse with a sicko for a good few weeks. And while they won’t admit it, the list has helped them a few times. 
But that won’t stop them from making fun of any of the list’s new developments. Because you see, there was a new list. And it wasn’t just a watchlist. No, no, no. It was The Watchlist.
It was a new development after he and Robin went on an out-of-state mission to investigate some town in bum fuck nowhere Illinois. And it was under some pretty tight security as well, so they were expecting something good, like mad scientists or evil mayors. Not profiles of the kids who lived in the town. And while there were a few metas and vigilantes that made the list interesting, by the end of it all they just seemed to be teenagers. 
Until they saw Damian. They hadn’t seen him since he came back from the mission with B. He looked tired. Like ‘Tim hasn’t slept in a week and is surviving on just coffee beans’ tired.
“Ah, I see you all have found it. Good. A few of them will be arriving next week as they’re a part of Gotham Academy’s student exchange program. At least three of them will be staying in the manor with us. Father will need you all to be on standby and to be ready for any possible scenario. Please, for the love of all that is good, do not encourage them in any way, shape, or form. And please do not dismiss them either. The outcome of doing that will be much worse. Is there more that I should add? Yes. Will I? No, because you won’t understand. Not until you've seen what I have.” 
The demon child sighed, then looked them dead in the eyes. “Godspeed to us all.” Then walked away.
Okay, they were scared now.
2K notes · View notes
darkeneddawning · 10 months
Text
Escaped clone au
You know all those fics where Danny and Damian are twins but everyone first assumes Danny must be a clone? How about an au where Danny is Damian's clone who escaped the League after he was assumed dead. Damian could even have been the one to have "killed" him, back when Danny was a newly created, fully brainwashed clone minion and trying to kill Damian himself.
Danny gets adopted by the Fentons and canon goes on as normal, until Dan. Witnessing what would happen to the world should he turn evil really drove home to Danny how dangerous he is.
Even if he was confident he could be trusted with his absurd amount of power (which he isn't), what if the League of Assassins found out about him? Does he still have programming triggers from his evil assassin clone conditioning?
So, Danny does the responsible thing: he goes to Batman to turn himself in.
Cue Danny showing up on Bruce's doorstep with ghost hunting equipment, intel on the afterlife, and an almost unbelievable backstory. Somehow he still managed to be more well-adjusted than Damian.
More thoughts under the read more
Here's how I'm thinking Danny leaving the League went down:
After surviving his wounds but failing his mission, Danny (then an unnamed potential Damian replacement) knew there was no point in returning to the League. As a failure, he was meant to be disposed of. He even thought of simply allowing himself to perish, since that was what the League would do.
But he couldn't help but feel as though that would be a waste of a resource. Surely he could be of more use to the League alive than dead?
That tiny bit of rebellious logic is what caused Danny to go into hiding, only living on based on the off chance he would find opportunities to further the League's goals. Obviously, that mentality didn't last long after being exposed to the real world and meeting one Jazz Fenton.
Being adopted by the Fentons was the best cover Danny could have asked for, since any odd behavior he couldn't hide while he was learning how to be "normal" was totally overshadowed by the sheer bizarre eccentricity of his new parents. He was still the neighborhood weird kid, but even that was a major upgrade from disposable tool, so Danny considered it a win.
Anyway, if anyone likes this idea, please feel free to have at it! Interpret it as you please :)
3K notes · View notes
Text
Halloween prompt year 2 day 13
"Please stop..." the teen pleaded and Bruce felt his heart clench. He was strapped down to a metal table like a frog being readied for dissection and it took everything Bruce had to not rush over and free him.
The chanting started up again and the boy started screaming, from pain or rage he wasn't sure. All he knew was that the fluids leaking from his and Salinas sons mouth and eyes looked far too similar to the Lazarus waters. The exorcism continued, with Constantine, Zatanna, and Raven all doing everything they could to back up the Exorcist as Danny convulsed on the table, more and more of the odd green goo oozing from his body. It was coming out of his ears and nose now, as well as his pores, giving the sweat on his body a sickly green sheen.
"This is number three!" The exorcist shouted, holding his object of power into the air, "I command you to go back to the damned!" The object was lowered with the intention of touching the boys forehead. The boy desperately tilted his head in an vain attempt to escape from it and Batman forced himself to clench his fists to keep himself from rushing over and helping his son. He hadn't even known Danny existed, having had another son hidden from him by a woman he had loved. He understands why Salina had did it. She must have been early on in the pregnancy with him when Jason had been killed.
She must have thought Bruce couldn't protect her or thier son.
She was right.
But Bruce was here now and he wanted his son to be free of whatever this 'Pit demon' wanted from him. "John. How much longer-"
*Booom*
His question was cut short by an explosion rocking the entirety of the building, forcing him and John to rush to the force of the blast and leave the other behind to complete the ritual
This turned out to be a mistake as it was just a diversion.
Bruce glared at the beast. The werewolf esqe being was holding his sons unconscious form in his arms. Its claws were sharp, long and thin like someone had attached a senbon to the end of each of the creatures fingers. Its teeth weren't much better, all long and needle sharp like something out of a nightmare. The beast, even from this distance, kept is gaze locked onto his own as it slowly backed away into the portal behind it, its clothes and black fur flowing unnaturally with its movements. In moments both the creature and the portal were gone.
So that was a pit demon.
Regardless, Bruce approached the place the portal had been. He would get his son back.
He swore it.
1K notes · View notes
radiance1 · 9 months
Text
Alfred Pennyworth has in fact, perhaps, in the slightest of chances.
Picked up his Master's habit of collecting children as if they were on sale.
He was spending his time on one of those rare vacations he decided to take, it was nice, to relax with only the vague overhanging worry of something going wrong back at the manor that he's gotten very good at ignoring.
Only to come across a child bleeding out in an alley, heavily injured.
He would not be able to live with himself if he didn't at least try to help them however he could.
Such is how he acquired a child he later found to be a meta who whished to learn the ways of a butler.
---
Danny had escaped from a GIW compound, after having been handed over by his family a while after his reveal. He felt, completely and utterly betrayed, when it happened. His parents, while hurt, he was at least capable of actually seeing them do it, but never would he have thought Jazz would do so as well.
They did it so happily, that he wondered if letting him go really was the greatest thing to happen to this family.
He chained, muzzled, all the ways to bind him they pulled all the stops too, knowing how dangerous he was. He wouldn't have even done anything then, too stunned by his families apart willingness at handing him over to the government.
He hated them.
He hated them so much.
The GIW facility was a terrible, cold, unfeeling place. One where they drilled thoughts into his head again and again until he found himself unconsciously repeating them when his head felt empty, one where his body gained a new mark day by day and pushed through tests, he had no clue of even hoping to comprehend what they would gain out of it.
It was a cold, unfeeling place. Placed in a cell of white and nothing else, with low walls and chains binding his body in place until the time came for another experiment.
It was a room he grew used to. One he even held some kind of strange, twisted affection for.
It was a room that held a tiny piece of safety, of rest. It was a room that taught him to hate.
A deep, powerful, disgusting, twisting hatred that crawled from the depths of his cells, corrupting his blood and carving itself deep into his bones. Forcing it's out of his pores until it practically oozed from his flesh.
It drowned his mind, tainting each and every thought, every memory, every dream, every waking moment until he could feel nothing but hatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehate.
When he was taken out of that he could feel nothing, with the drugs swimming their way through his blood that snapped the thin string keeping him between a person and an emotionless puppet.
He thinks that's what the GIW thinks he is.
And when he was placed back in that room, he could only hate.
It was a cycle. Stuck between feeling either nothing or hatred.
He hated feeling nothing, it made him feel like he wasn't real. Like it snapped the thread that held him between what a real person was and a dream.
So, he allowed himself to drown deep into his hatred. Until the white walls of his far to small room seemed to fade, until whatever sound he could have heard became nothing but dull noise.
Until the passage of time seemed to become just a blink.
He didn't know what day it was, when he saw it. Saw them. He didn't know the time, the date, the day, the hours. He knew nothing.
But he could recognize his family. Recognize one of the objects of his intense hatred that he forced his thoughts too. The people who willingly gave him up just like that and one of the causes for his current life.
He didn't know why they showed him them, he felt it some sick, utterly cruel joke. A joke he didn't know the punchline for, a joke the universe sent his way to make his life all the more miserable.
There were multiple of them. Multiple clones of his family. Som within test tubes, some being pulled out from the tubes, some walking around in lab coats. A waste of talent, they called it in his dad's case, a waste of intelligence in his mother's, and a waste of intellect in his sister's case.
His original family was already dead, he was told. Replaced by clones, clones that took over the legal decision to change his guardianship. Clones walking around twisting and desecrating his family.
'At least it was painless.' One of the clones said, talking with his mother's face. 'Far more than they deserved for having keeping a thing like him' spoken by his father's imposter.
The drugs pumping through his system to keep him calm, to keep him feeling nothing was suddenly pierced through by an intense feeling of horror, hate and self-loathing.
He should've known it wasn't his family. He should've done more! More to protect them! To keep them safe! The could've still been alive if he just knew.
In that moment, watching imposters speaking, walking, talking, breathing, with his families faces. He exploded. Exploded with a power fueled by nothing but his intense hatred for every. Single. Living being in this goddamn facility.
He killed whoever stood in his way. Managing to get his hands on relatively newly designed weapon, an ectoplasmic scythe (that also apparently could revert into an everyday item). Which he used to rip and tear throughout the entirety of the facility. He got injured, of course, he couldn't dodge everything, but he didn't care.
A body stuck between life and death, incapable of fully going one way or the other no matter what happened. Gifted supernatural powers fueled by wrath and twisting hatred and a weapon made by man yet in the range of the supernatural.
They didn't stand a change. He killed them all. No matter who it was, man, woman, clone. He didn't, couldn't care. He could only kill, only maim, only hurt.
And that's what he did.
It was then, when the facility was blanketed with silence tainted by despair, death and hysteria. When previously white walls were covered by blood, and the halls turned into rivers of blood and corpses. That he broke down, the overwhelming hatred he felt replaced by relief then sadness then self-loathing.
His family didn't give him up! But they were killed. Kill because of him. He couldn't stand being in this place, anymore. His body felt as if it were moving on unseen strings as it walked through the halls, the scythe shrinking back what it was when out of combat, his mind too occupied by thoughts and feelings.
It walked through a portal, one to the ghost zone, and then promptly into another portal and spat him out into an alleyway. Which he then promptly collapsed and curled into a ball, curing the shrunken scythe in his palm and he was out like a light.
A few days after he woke up, he found himself growing attached to the human that found him in that alleyway. An old man, maybe, but a nice one. He didn't want to meet anyone, besides that man, so he turned invisible when anyone else come into contact with him.
Alfred Pennyworth.
It was a name he clung onto mentally and a man he clung onto physically as well. He wanted to be like that man, someone so nice and caring, someone who didn't mind that he turned invisible at the sing of another person, who let him cling onto him both invisible and not whenever he wanted to.
He did panic when he heard Alred saying his vacation was over, and such that he had to leave. He didn't want to be left alone again, he didn't know what he would do if he was left alone again.
Until Afred said we were going home.
We. As in, him plus another. Alfred plus Danny.
Home.
Heat blossomed in his chest, seeming to replace the constant, low hum of hate sitting beneath him skin.
Home.
2K notes · View notes
tanglepelt · 1 year
Text
Dp x dc idea 39
Danny is Bruce’s bio kid but only finds out because his parents disowned him and Danny ended up being the teen titans unofficial feral sometimes member.
Danny has a new identity that has been emancipated curtesy of tucker. Danny broke the portal before he left so no more ghost problems.
Danny ends up in a new town working at a coffee shop and taking classes online. He has a trashy one bedroom apartment.
He ends up occasionally helping out this hero group called the teen titans. He doesn’t like the adult hero’s.
I need a paranoid person so it’s the teen titans with Tim drake. I need questions to be asked. Plus i feel like Danny and Conner would have fun sparing.
i imagine Danny like a stray cat. If they spook him he hisses and goes invisible. Food is a good way to coax Danny out. I like feral Danny. So he definitely bit at least one of the members.
As he warms up to him they find out more about him. That his parents essentially kicked him out. He got his powers in a lab accident. Apparently food has attacked him. A godfather who wants to forcibly adopt him and a bunch of concerning information.
Even with this Tim can’t figure out who is the white haired green eyes civilian identity. he just goes invisible when he leaves and trackers just don’t work. It’s driving him nuts.
During one fight danny gets injured and is forced back to his human form. Tim now knows who he is as he frequents the coffee shop Danny works at.
Danny begrudgingly agreed to have his dna tested. Not for identity but because none of the medical supplies worked on him. Stitches dissolved and pain meds did not work. Besides he is adopted so it’s not like a family match would help them find his real identity.
The dna gets run by tim. Nothing pops up for Danny but Bruce Wayne pops up as his biological father.
Bruce had no idea he had a second son. Danny just wants to avoid the billionaire attempting to enter his life. No more fruitloops for him.
3K notes · View notes
shimmershy · 11 months
Text
Tumblr media
Chara Week Day 5: Ghost
Every time I see that machine in the True Lab, I wonder if it could possibly be Chara's soul in there? Probably unlikely, but not impossible... It's interesting to think about what the implications of that would be.
A version with no text and then a version with just the machine, because I think it looks pretty cool and ominous alone as well.....
Tumblr media Tumblr media
2K notes · View notes
juiceicicles · 10 months
Text
Just had a brief hysterical 4am thought of the kids arguing about Steve and his “coolness” and Mike saying something about how he bets the whole ladykiller thing is fake and that Steve’s not as good at kissing or dating or whatever the fuck as people think he is and Eddie just going “Nah, he is.” And then the entire party loosing their minds because why would Eddie know that?
1K notes · View notes
dpxdc-prompts · 6 months
Text
Danny really doesn’t want to be the ghost king. He’s so afraid he’ll mess it up that he runs away to go get reincarnated somewhere. He ends up as Danyal Al-Ghul, the fully human twin brother of Damian Al-Ghul.
Unfortunately, Danny does not live up to the standards of the league and eventually, Ra’s Al Ghul decides that he is more of a liability than an asset to him.
After one particularly bad mission where Danny yet again fails to kill a single target, Ra’s has Danny dragged to the Lazarus Pits. As Danny is scrambling to try not to be pushed into what is essentially a smelly portal to the Ghost Realms, Ra’s says,
“You are less than worthless to the league. You will either die in there or crawl out stronger. Either way, it’s a win-win situation.” Danny is finally wrestled into the Pits.
After a full day passes Ra’s returns to the pit, and is surprised when a hand reaches out of the Pit. Danyal, but with white hair, green eyes, and a fiery green crown floating over his head, calmly steps out of the Pit.
“Ah, Danyal. It seems that the Pits deemed you useful after all and decided to give you a second chance. That power you were so afraid of isn’t so bad, is it.” Danny glares at Ra’s, an aura of death suddenly radiating off of him. It’s so forceful that it knocks Ra’s down to his knees and knocks the breath out of him. Danny slowly walks up and stands loomingly over him.
“It’s not the power I was afraid of, it was the responsibility. Now that I have both, I’ve had enough with you.” He snaps his fingers and the Lazarus pits dry up in the blink of an eye. “You will have Damian sent to his father immediately and keep him out of your business or I will personally drain the ectoplasm from your veins. When I leave, don’t search for me.”
With that, Danny flew away straight through the ceiling and Ra’s finally gasped for air.
676 notes · View notes
laundrybiscuits · 1 year
Text
Eddie’s doing some dumb trick with a couple of wooden spoons, clever hands making them move through the air in improbable ways, and Steve’s about to bite his whisk in half. 
He’d thought for sure that Eddie would be going home the first week; Edward Munson, 29, bartender/musician from Brighton with mismatched tattoos and wild hair, seemed like exactly the kind of pretentious asshole who would flame out early with some ill-advised hipster experimentation. If Steve (28, social worker from Indiana, USA) had been a complete asshole, he’d have said that Eddie didn’t have the fundamentals. That he was all sizzle, no steak. 
It’s a good thing Steve’s not a complete asshole, because Eddie’s been blowing the technicals out of the water so consistently it’s actually pretty fucking embarrassing. His signatures and showstoppers are making a very respectable showing too, except for the time he tried to incorporate some fresh pandan extract and fucked up the liquid ratio, leaving him with a dripping mess that Mary’d declined to even try. 
Afterwards, Steve had seen him leaning against a tree and struggling to light a cigarette. Steve went over for no particular reason, flicking on his lighter and holding it out like a peace offering. Eddie looked at him warily, but bent over the offered flame. 
“Can’t believe I made it through this one,” Eddie said after a moment, white smoke curling out of his mouth.
“Yeah, I feel like that every week.” Steve leaned against the tree next to Eddie. It was a big tree, the kind that’s probably been growing in this field since before England was even England. 
“Nah, but—c’mon, you know what I mean.”
“You had some bad luck with your showstopper. Happens to the best of us, man. Your signature hand pies looked sick as hell.” Steve’s own hand pies had turned out pretty well, so he was feeling generous. It had only been the third week; plenty of time for Steve to snag Star Baker, though even by that point, Steve had been getting the creeping feeling that he was being a little too American about the whole thing. Everyone else seemed to think competitiveness was some kind of deadly sin. It was—actually kind of nice, to get the same kind of nerves he’d always gotten before high school basketball games, but know that he wasn’t really fighting against anyone except himself in the tent.
Anyway, the very next week, Eddie had done some kind of kickass gothic castle with a shiny chocolate dragon and gotten Star Baker for the second time. Steve had clapped him on the back, appropriately manly. Eddie had pulled Steve into a real hug, arms tight around Steve’s shoulders and his whole lean body pressed up close and warm. It had only lasted a moment, and then Eddie had bounded over to Mel and Sue, both of whom he’s been thoroughly charming since the get-go. 
Steve thinks that when this season—or, uh, series—airs, no matter where Eddie places, the entire country is going to be just as charmed. Eddie’s going to get whatever kind of cookbook deal or streaming show he wants. Sponsors will take one look at that handsome face and charismatic grin, and a whole world of possibilities is going to open up for Eddie. 
Steve’s not in it for any of that, of course. He’s here kind of by accident, because Robin pushed him to apply, and it’s a goddamn miracle he’s been holding his own. Hell, it’s a miracle he’s in this country at all. When Robin had started looking at the Cambridge MPhil program in linguistics, she’d said wouldn’t it be great if and he’d snorted, yeah right, like I could ever get whatever job I’d need to move to another freaking country, but then—well. Things had happened the way they’d happened, and now Robin’s almost finished with her degree and Steve is taking time off from the London charity he works at in order to be on Bake Off. 
He’s told all this to the cameras, plus the stuff about how baking started as a way for him to connect with the kids he used to babysit in Indiana, blah blah blah. He thinks it’s probably too boring for them to air, but he gets that they have to try to get a story anyway. 
Eddie Munson, on the other hand, is probably going to be featured in all the series promos. Steve is rabidly curious about what Eddie’s story is, but he hasn’t worked up the nerve to just ask. It should be the easiest thing in the world. They’ve got kind of a camaraderie going, the two of them; a bit of a bromance, as Mel’s put it more than once. 
It’s true they get along pretty well, and the cameras have been picking up on it: on the way Eddie’ll wander over to Steve’s bench like a stray cat whenever they get some downtime, how they wind up horsing around sometimes, working off leftover adrenaline from the frantic rush of caramelization or whatever. There’s the time Eddie had hopped up on a stool to deliver some kind of speech from Macbeth, of all things, and overbalanced right onto Steve, who had barely managed to keep them both from careening into a stand mixer. Sue had patted Eddie on the shoulder and said, “Well, boys, that’ll be going in the episode for sure.”
They both get along with the other contestants just fine, of course, but they’re two guys of about the same age with no wife and kids waiting at home. It’s only natural that they’re gravitating together, becoming something like friends, Steve figures. It’s pretty great that he’s getting at least one real friend out of this whole thing.
It would be even greater if Steve could stop thinking about Eddie’s hands in decidedly non-friendly ways. With all the paperwork he’s signed, he can’t even complain to Robin about how Eddie looks with his sleeves pushed up to show off the tattoos on his forearms, kneading dough and grunting a little under his breath with effort. Steve had almost forgotten to pre-heat his oven that day. 
Two benches away, Eddie fumbles the spoons he’s been juggling with a clatter, and he bursts out laughing, glancing over at Steve like Steve’s in on the joke. Steve grins back, heart twanging painfully in his chest, and thinks: well, fuck. Guess this is happening.
1K notes · View notes
puppetmaster13u · 3 months
Text
Prompt 192
Danny feels exhausted. His stupid ghost-puberty is annoying, and is affecting even his human form. Which wouldn’t be that bad, except for the fact that instead of having a simple elemental or obsession core, he happens to have a Space one. Technically the Space Core seeing as apparently he’s the newborn Ancient of Space. Or something. 
Urgh, he just wants to get some food from the dollar store down the street, not deal with whatever attempted mugging this is. He’s hangry, and just wants to get some food and curl back up in his mass of blankets back in his tiny apartment. 
So maybe he overreacted. He might have released his very careful hold on his less-than human traits that have been attempting to leak through the last several weeks. On the bright side, he, uh, isn’t hungry anymore and is now back in his nest of blankets. 
On the other hand, there is now a vigilante in his window. 
973 notes · View notes